Shattered Essence
by SeraphAngel99
Summary: The truth serum has the power to make you forget. It can rip away your memories. Any coherent thought. Anger, shame, embarrassment. Tobias Eaton believed he would never have to tell another person about his secret struggles. When the Candor arrest him and Tris, Tobias must reconcile with his decisions, and scarring past. Tobias POV-while under the truth serum in Insurgent.


_**A/N:**__Ah, well, this was actually my first fic that I ever posted on here._ _But, the original, after rereading it several times, was deleted. It was slightly embarrassing to see all the mistakes I had made in my excitement. And I found many ways in which I could build upon some of the sentences, and elaborate on the ideas. So I hope you enjoy reading. I don't mind some hate, especially if it's helpful criticism, but just keep it down. If you like, drop a review and tell me what you think, and I might write Tris's encounter under the serum, but from Tobias's POV. But for now, this is a one-shot. _

_**Disclaimer: **__I do __**not **__own Divergent, Insurgent, the characters, etc. Everything belongs to the amazing Veronica Roth. _

* * *

_**Shattered Essence**_

The crowd is restless, itching for the interrogation to commence. I feel the exact opposite.

Sweat beads on my back, a lump the size of an apple in my throat that I am unable to swallow. This is the time where the entire truth will be spilled. Everyone will know what I have suffered through in both Dauntless and Abnegation. They will know my darkest secrets. For example, that my "selfless" father used to beat me every time he wasn't satisfied with me, or if he was angry, he would take his stress out on me. The crowd will know _everything._

I have to hold it together, though, because if I don't, I am sure the end result will be much worse than I'm predicting it will already be.

Tris.

I have to keep her in my mind. Remember her. I shared my secrets with her; they had been like my armour, protecting me from the world. From them knowing my deepest regrets, sorrows. I told Tris, I can do it again.

I reach for her hand. The pressure of her palm in mine relaxes me some.

The two of us are led to the center of the room by the Dauntless guards. Some Candor whisper their hate and suspicions while others scream theirs' so we can hear. I want to make myself disappear.

Jack Kang eyes me, the leader of Candor, his stare resentful. Maybe even hateful.

"My name is Niles," says an old, dark-skinned man that stands before us. He is in front of two empty chairs, a small black box in hand. "I will be your questioner. You will be going first, so if you will please step forward." He points at me. I feel like I might throw-up. But I push aside those feelings as I stare at what awaits me. I can't let the anxious worries consume me, because if they do, I will be torn down so much faster and not even stand a fighting chance. Arranging my features into a blank, stoic expression, I glance at Tris, squeezing her hand in one last goodbye, because I think if I opened my mouth, if I could even manage, no sound would come out. I leave her standing beside Christina at the edge of the Candor symbol.

I sit down in the chair, almost unable to comprehend what is happening.

In front of me, Niles sits with the black box in his hand. He gingerly lifts the lid, revealing two needles. I quickly use the antiseptic wipe that Niles hands me, rubbing it over the spot where he instructs. Pushing up from the wooden chair, he then inserts the needle into my neck. I barely flinch. It was required to insert a needle in able to enter your fear- landscape; I went in to attempt to face my four fears whenever I could. But, the contents in the needle jolts me from my thoughts. A cloudy, bluish liquid sits in the tube. The truth serum.

As Niles presses down the plunger, I look at Tris one last time before I go under.

* * *

It is not what I expected.

When the serum had been injected into my veins, I thought it would take effect immediately. Obviously it didn't. I feel the exact same as I did moments before. Maybe that is how the truth serum operates, though. Maybe it takes several minutes to work fully.

"I will ask you a series of simple questions so that you can grow accustomed to the serum as it takes full effect," Niles says. "Now. What is your name?"

These are the type of questions I will be reluctant to answer.

I suddenly hunch over as it feels as though my shoulders are being weighed down with the weight of the world. They immediately begin to ache in protest, as I try to shove the uncomfortable pang. Peering at Niles old, haggard face, lines start to mesh together and blur at the edges. I don't know why. Why can't I focus on one particular thing without seeing the same fuzziness every time? And why are all these silhouettes facing me? Why do I feel sluggish and why does my body hurt?

Confusion sweeps over me in powerful waves, but only a moment later recognition replaces the puzzled thoughts sparring in my head.

It's the truth serum.

This must be how it feels to be under the serum's influence. Tired and confused. Unsure of why you're there, but willing to answer all of the questions that are thrown at you. Anger bubbles in my throat, and I barely manage to suppress it.

No. I will not let it control me. I am Divergent. I can fight it. I _will_fight it.

I glare at the ground, squirming in my seat. "Four," I say with clenched teeth.

In a different point of view, that really is my name. People know me as Four in Dauntless. It's the persona I began to inhabit as I was accepted into my faction, from the moment I was sixteen. The biting and coarse person I was forced to become under the watchful gazes of others in Dauntless. Tobias was still there, the frightened, altruistic boy I was only two years ago, lying under the shield I constructed to hide myself from everyone. And that's where he would stay.

"That is a nickname," says Niles, calmly. "What is your real name?"

Before I can think about my response, the answer rolls off my tongue.

"Tobias," I mumble.

Mentally chastising myself, I think back to the pact I had made only seconds before. That who I really am would be concealed behind the barrier I wore always. And with one simple question, the wall cracked slightly, allowing some its secrets to slip through. I had prevented anyone from knowing my real identity for what seemed for so long. How could I ruin it so easily? I place my hands on either side of the chair and grip it in frustration, gritting my teeth, promising I won't let the wall crumble even more.

The Dauntless let out some breathes of shock. Others grumble to one another.

"What are the names of your parents, Tobias?"

At least he doesn't prod too much. Just asks for the information he needs, and quickly moves on. But it is a dangerous direction to go. Marcus is one of the most influential government officials. Everyone knows his name. This is what I feared. That I would have to share the horrible truth of my past. Locking my jaw, I glare defiantly at Niles. The words will not come out as easily as they did last time.

"Why is this relevant?" I ask, struggling to maintain an even voice.

The Candor all talk under their breath so I can't hear what they are saying. I can't bring myself to care.

"Maybe it wasn't relevant before, Tobias, but it is now that you've resisted answering the question," Niles says, arching a brow. "The names of your parents, please."

I close my eyes in submission, hating myself for being so weak. "Evelyn and Marcus Eaton."

Immediately, everyone recognizes Marcus's name. As some people stare at me with surprise or even sympathy, I can feel the fight falling out of me. The serum is creeping into my veins slowly, but devouring any last ounce of consciousness left. I suddenly can't think straight, thoughts a mess, bumping into each other. Noise surrounds me. I am unable to tell myself what is real and what isn't. I feel transparent, like I am not really there, but like I am watching from the crowd instead. It seems fake to me, all of it.

I lock eyes with the blonde girl on the scale's edge. I scramble for a name, images of her flooding my mind, spilling into the heap of already confused ones. Tendrils of hopeless questions abruptly create a word…a name.

_Tris._

I hold her intense gaze, in hopes that she will help me hold on to my sanity. Seeing her bright, hectic blue eyes warms me to my core. She is the one who knows my truths. She didn't judge me. If only everyone could be like her, this wouldn't be so difficult. I keep Tris poised on one side of my mind, so I can continue to see her, even if it's an imagining, while the rest of my mind focuses on the old man sitting, watching expectantly, but patiently, awaiting the crowds' silence. Everyone is talking about Marcus's son, and the rumours circling the reason why he left Abnegation. They all want to discuss the reasons, or gossip about the boy's mother's sad death. But they all want to know more as well, they want their guesses confirmed true, the _entire _story.

And they might just get it.

After the silence ensues, Niles quickly moves forward with the questions.

"So you are a faction transfer, are you not?" he asks.

"Yes," I say flatly.

"You transferred from Abnegation to Dauntless?"

A fury erupts in my stomach, breaking the current hold the serum has over me. The haze around me clears slightly, my thoughts stopping, becoming still. I had just told all these strangers one of the most vital secrets I had harboured. Two in fact. The anger tore at me, burning my insides. Consuming almost every thought, it pushed against the tiredness and disorientation until they were only minuscule. How could the Candor think this was an efficient method to achieving their faction morals? It might make you feel like you are a free person, with no more secrets hiding in your heart, but the embarrassment and mortification would ruin that sense of freedom. The anger.

The wall would break no more.

"_Yes_," I snap. "Isn't that obvious?"

"One of the purposes of this interrogation is to determine your loyalties," Niles says, "so I must ask: Why did you transfer?"

I glare at Niles, unwilling to answer that question. Everyone already knows who my father is, so they know the rumours. That Marcus used to beat me. The Erudite spread it all across the city so everyone would know. But I won't be the one to tell them. I already spilled too much. I draw my features into a look of determination; I won't let the serum evade my mind again. But I can't stop the cold feeling of it crawling its way back into my head. The veil obscuring me from reality drops back into place. I try to find its weak spots, pushing and prodding at it, attempting to get rid of it for good. As Niles, the Candor, the Dauntless all wait for my answer in silence, my cheeks start to warm, my breathing picking up, turning heavy, fast. A tiny war rages on in my head, unyielding any information from escaping my mouth. How could the Candor do this? Force me to tell them everything I have collected over the years. They are stripping me of my freedom, my rights as a human being.

I get a quick peek at Tris out of my peripheral vision. She talks heatedly to Christina, her face animated as she argues with her. The way the skin between her eyebrows scrunch in concentration as she speaks and her eyes, persistent and passionate, is entrancing. She stands like a flashing beacon in the middle of the storm; bright and clear in the mist surrounding me. I wish I could continue to watch her, but Niles pulls my attention back to him.

"I'll ask again. It is important that we understand the extent of your loyalty to your chosen faction," Niles says. "So why did you transfer to Dauntless, Tobias?"

No matter how hard I attempt to rid myself of this dumbfounding fog, I can't. My head aches, I can't focus. A part of my mind is still alert, aware of what I'm saying, but the serum is dragging it down into its depths. And in moments, I know that I will be too far gone to understand what I will be saying.

"To protect myself," I blurt out, startling Niles and myself, as well. "I transferred to protect myself."

"Protect yourself from what?" Niles asks.

"From my father."

All conversation stops. I want to bury my face in my hands, to escape all the staring eyes, but I can't. The silence is worse judgement than the whispers. At least I could catch wisps of the words that were being passed from one person to another, so I could hear what everyone was talking about. But, now, everyone criticizes me in quiet. I realize that as I watch the crowd, some spectators nodding their heads as if I had just confirmed some fact, that obviously, there were a few people who believed the rumour, or had at least suspected it was true.

My head dips, and that small part of my consciousness berates me for having lost the battle. I promised I wouldn't give up my most guarded secret, and yet here I am. Wanting to melt away in shame for being powerless against these people.

"Thank you for your honesty," Niles says. Soon, all the Candor are repeating the phrase, constant murmurs in the room. The secret may be out, welcomed in opened arms by everyone, but that doesn't mean that I am safe. Not even close.

"Is your allegiance with your current faction, Tobias?" Niles says.

"My allegiance lies with anyone who does not support the attack on Abnegation," I say.

"Speaking of which, I think we should focus on what happened that day," Niles says, and I catch a hint of curiosity behind his words. "What do you remember about being under the simulation?"

That one is easy. "I was not under the simulation, at first. It didn't work."

Like a door being slammed shut, all the thoughts swirling in my head _stop. _It is empty, left with an eerie blankness. But millions of questions bombard the silence: Why is this man staring at me like I had two heads? Why am I in this room? Why do I feel breathless but empty? Why is the air filled with a shocked tension? Am I the one who caused it?

Niles, I somehow remember through the haze, laughs, but I don't understand why. I don't understand why I am here, surrounded by all these people. A few faces look familiar, like the small, blonde girl in the corner of the circle.

Tris.

Her name comes to me just like that. Like a snap of my fingers. I try to picture her, though she stands just several feet away, but I have trouble. I see her staring at me, caressing my face, her touch gentle and comforting. But the image dissipates. It was there, and then it was gone. I want to know why.

"What do you mean, it didn't _work_?" Niles asks, smiling at me. He does not believe me.

"One of the defining characteristics of the Divergent is that their minds are resistant to simulations," I say matter-of-factly. "And I am Divergent. So no, it didn't work."

Speaking those words sends an odd, chilling sensation down my spine. I shudder slightly. Why, though?

People whisper in awe, hostility, fear. This confuses me greatly. Why did my confession send such an uproar in the crowd?

Niles raises his hands, trying to silence everyone. It doesn't work. Nobody pays Niles any attention, but their neighbours instead. All around me, they are engaging in heated conversation. Shouts tear up from the back of the room.

The old man stands.

"If you don't quiet down, you will be asked to leave!" he shouts over the racket.

The crowd settles, but an unease spreads like a wildfire, making everyone on edge. Niles sits again.

"Now," he says. "When you say 'resistant to the simulations,' what do you mean?"

"Usually, it means we're aware during the simulations," I say. This question is simple to answer, but I don't feel comfortable here. My eyes continually wander, my posture hunched and awkward. But, how can you feel comfortable with everyone gazing at you and not knowing the reason why? "But the attack simulation was different, using a different kind of simulation serum, one with long-range transmitters. Evidently the long-range serum transmitters didn't work on the Divergent at all because I awoke in my own mind that morning."

_What the hell am I rambling on about?_

"You say that you weren't under the simulation _at first_." Niles asks, skeptically. "Can you explain what you mean by that?"

"I mean that I was discovered and brought to Jeanine, and she injected a version of the simulation serum that specifically targeted the Divergent. I was aware during that simulation, but it didn't do much good."

"The video footage from the Dauntless headquarters shows you _running_the simulation. How, exactly, do you explain that?" the questioner says grimly.

"When a simulation is running, your eyes still see and process the actual world, but your brain no longer comprehends them. On some level, though, your brain still knows what you're seeing and where you are. The nature of this new simulation was that it recorded my emotional responses to outside stimuli," I close my eyes for several seconds, then continue on, "and responded by altering the appearance of that stimuli. The simulation made my enemies into friends, my friends into enemies. I thought I was shutting the simulation down. Really I was receiving orders on how to keep it running."

Everyone nods their heads, accepting this. This must be good. No one is shouting.

"We have seen footage of what ultimately happened to you in the control room," Niles says, "but it is confusing. Please describe it to us."

I feel slightly confused myself. "Someone entered the room, and I thought it was a Dauntless soldier, trying to stop me from destroying the simulation. I was fighting her, and…" What happened next? I scowl, straining to pull the rest of the story from my memories. "…And then she stopped, and I got confused. Even if I had been awake, I would have been confused. Why would she surrender? Why didn't she just kill me?"

My heart starts to beat faster as I think about her. I don't know why, but it does. I glance at every face in the crowd until I find her captivating face again. A tiny smile curls at the edges of her lips.

"I still don't understand how she knew that it would work." I say softly. "I think my conflicted emotions confused the simulation, and then I heard her voice. Somehow, that enabled me to fight the simulation." I had kept my eyes on her the entire time I had been speaking. "I recognized her, finally. We went back into the control room and stopped the simulation."

I think of when she placed her hand on my heart; as I held her, ready to shoot her, I couldn't help but wonder why, like right now. I keep thinking about these questions I don't know the answers to.

"What is the name of this person?" Niles asks.

"Tris," I say immediately. "Beatrice Prior, I mean."

"Did you know her before this happened?"

"Yes."

"How did you know her?"

"I was her instructor," I say proudly. "Now we're together."

"I have a final question," says Niles. "Among the Candor, before a person is accepted into our community, they have to completely expose themselves. Given the dire circumstances we are in, we require the same of you. So, Tobias Eaton: what are your deepest regrets?"

"I regret…" I start, but I don't know how to finish. What do I regret most?

That I was a coward, that I never did anything to my father while I was in Abnegation, to stop the beating.

That I was a coward for running from Marcus.

Abnegation. Dauntless.

I cock my head, and sigh before I begin.

"I regret my choice."

"What choice?"

"Dauntless." I say. "I was born for Abnegation. I was planning on leaving Dauntless, and becoming factionless. But then I met _her_…I felt like maybe I could make something more of my decision."

I don't dare to look up at my current faction. They would most likely be looking at me the same way Jack Kang did. Hateful, loathsome.

"Choosing Dauntless in order to escape my father was an act of cowardice," I say. "I regret that cowardice. It means that I am not worthy of my faction. I will always regret it."

I continue to glare at the ground. I can feel the heaviness that had settled in my arms, my legs, starting to shift, to leave my body. My mind. I think about what just happened, playing it over piece by piece. My life splayed out before these strangers. My emotions put on full display. Now, one question is left in my thoughts, flashing rapidly: How could I ruin myself like that?

Someone whispers, "Thank you for your honesty." Others join in.

I push myself up from the chair, grateful to leave.

Tris walks awkwardly to the center of the room, her expression calm, but I know her better than that. If you look deeper into her eyes, I can see the hidden panic, the horrors of telling everyone her darkest secrets.

I grasp her hand as she passes me, and I squeeze it gently, hoping it will comfort her, but also encourage her. Encourage her to tell the truth.

She is Divergent. She can fight it. She _will_ fight it. I know.

Sometimes the truth is better to be shared than bottled up.

I can only hope she realizes that before it is too late.

* * *

_**A/N:**__ So. Care to share any thoughts? _

_This is my first time being on fanfiction in a while. I've been reading of course, just not writing. My friend says I should simply delete my stories and start from scratch, and I'm afraid to say, I might do just that. Not sure. If I decide to, I have a Hunger Games fic just waiting to be posted on here, itching to be read. Currently it's sitting in my pile of documents. I meanwhile, am sitting here scratching my head wondering what the hell I should do. Got any ideas? _

_Drop a review or PM me if you have anything you want to share. _

_Ciao _

_-Seraph_


End file.
